Changes in the System
by DarkAngelSnapeLover
Summary: LJ.V.2 is a clone of the original Leroy Jethro Gibbs, and now that NCIS has called for him, he must return to the duties he was trained to do. In a world where people can come back as many times as needed to maintain a sole identity, LJ.V.2 must readjust to the world's new ways while complying with inner programing, and the instructions from those around him. One-shot.


**Changes in the System**

_Summary:_ LJ.V.2 is a clone of the original Leroy Jethro Gibbs, and now that NCIS has called for him, he must return to the duties he was trained to do. In a world where people can come back as many times as needed to maintain a sole identity, LJ.V.2 must readjust to the world's new ways while complying with inner programing, and the instructions from those around him. Science fiction/future fic. Rated K+.

_Translation Note: The letters are number are the character's initials and "Version.#" LJ.V.2 is the second version of Gibbs. A V.1 is the original person. All other initial combos should have their translations within the text, so please let me know if they're not._

LJ.V.2 wasn't surprised when NCIS called him into service. He was an exact copy of LJ.V.1, a real man with a real old world name: Leroy Jethro Gibbs. LJ.V.2 was created in his image with many of his brain's connections overlapping. He grew up in a special community for copies like himself, clones awaiting service for government groups. Now that he was of age, they wanted him for service.

The NCIS headquarters building sparkled in the sunlight. LJ.V.2's escort, a young agent, had seen the view thousands of times by now, but everything was new to LJ.V.2, or so he thought. As they entered the expansive lobby, its metallic surfaces gleaming in the filtered light, LJ.V.2 began recognizing certain people as his copied brain recognized others from the old world. This was all an illusion; some of the people he recognized were of V.2 class or higher, as the originals had died long ago.

"Leroy Jethro Gibbs Version 2," a red-haired woman grinned as LJ.V.2 entered the director's office. The escort was gone now, leaving LJ.V.2 to stare at a V.4 class copy of Jenny. That was the only name his memories gave him, at least until images of the initial dead scene flooded his consciousness. "Yes, yes, I met an untimely end, LJ., but that isn't important right now. What's important is your service to NCIS. Were you recruited by the Marines as planned?"

"Yes," LJ.V.2 replied, his voice cracking slightly. Jenny smiled, returning to her comfortable desk chair. "I was a sniper. I was going back to my initial training."

"I'm aware," Jenny nodded, smirking as she accessed certain files. "The reason you are V.2 class and I'm V.4 is very simple: Gibbs was a much better resource than I was. I was long dead when the technology came available, but Gibbs was still alive, ancient but still alive. You're direct from him, an early V.2. I'm a late V.4, and that is where the problems begin. There is one V.1 left here in this building, a young recruit who looked up to like no other. He's aged beyond recognition now, but McGhee is willing to show you the ropes of the new NCIS if you're willing to listen to a V.1 with few extras installed," Jenny winked.

LJ.V.2 had many extras, including excess memory units to include extra data. He never thought of anyone not having at least one extra like that, but he remembered this McGhee person from the extra memories. His face scrunched in confusion, and Jenny nodded with a knowing smile.

"I found it rather surprising myself, and I've gone through this twice now. My next replacement, V.5, will be here in three months. That means this is your trial period. If you like what we do, you can sign up with V.5. If you decide you'd rather find something else to do with yourself, then so be it. The government created you as a resource to them, but they won't force you to comply. And that is why V.5 will be arriving in three months for me," Jenny smiled. "I found someone, a lovely man, a V.6 with similar rogue tendencies. We're eloping."

"Congratulations," LJ.V.2 said, trying not to let the twinge in his chest affect his voice. He'd never felt the twinge before, and he wondered where it was coming from or why it happened. He'd have to do a scan to check for malfunctions when he was done meeting with McGhee. "What are my orders, Director?"

"Hmm, this version of you is more compliant," Jenny nodded, handing him an e-file card with silver edges. Not only was it classified, it was a third tier classification. LJ.V.2 looked to the e-file with shock. The president and his equals had e-files of this level. "Yes, that is a very sensitive file, but this is a sensitive case. Someone tried to kill the president, a V.3 petty officer who has never showed even a hint of disobedience. He's being detained at the Pentagon, but he'll be shipped here if you, McGhee, and the others can sort this out with his help.

"LJ, I want you to be careful with this case. Petty Officer KS.V.3 belongs to a new group that we don't know much about. He has a barcode on his wrist, a new technology that most aren't willing to undergo preparations for, as the operation is painful and doesn't always work. That barcode told us his orders, and the group won't stop until the president is dead. Keep this quiet, but do your best. Your training will kick in as you work, but remember, if you feel like this isn't your true calling, just tell us by the end of this trial period," she said, nodding to the door as it opened. LJ.V.2 slipped the classified e-file into his pocket as a very aged McGhee entered the room. "Treat him will, McGhee. I won't be losing solid V.2's on the first day like last time," she called. The door closed behind them before McGhee could respond.

Tony and Kate were each V.3's, though Ziva was only a V.2. Gibbs noted this as he was seated before a private hologram screen. LJ.V.1 would never have the patience to learn such technology, but LJ.V.2 was a different animal. He was raised on technology, and his hands flickered over the invisible controls like a master. Soon the files necessary for the assassination case floated to life on the screen, making McGhee's eyes twinkle as a smile tried to form on his wrinkled face.

"He knows better," Ziva said solemnly. "He comes from a strong religious background and it clashes with his programming, thus the unneeded implant in the right hemisphere," she explained, pointing to the body scan revealing the strange implant. Most were built to help the brain and its functions, but this one appeared to be harming the brain. Ziva's theory held merit, though the brain's functions were still widely unknown.

"What is this group the director told me about? Does anyone have information on them?" LJ.V.2 asked, surprised how his voice suddenly changed from gentle conversation to stern demands.

"Got it, Boss," Tony said, his eye twitching as the information flowed from his V.1 and V.2 classes and into his current consciousness. LJ.V.2 and the others ignored his sudden pause; they'd had similar moments themselves. "The group is small, maybe ten people involved tops. They hate the New Federal Regime because of that whole 'we'll forget about your genocide' clauses that have allowed Syria and some African nations to join the NFR. They're purists, and they think only the countries that were powerful in the previous century should be powerful for the upcoming one. The other nine people or so haven't really been identified yet, but we're hoping the Pentagon will release our prisoner soon."

"When did the Pentagon become a prison of sorts?" LJ.V.2 muttered, V.1's consciousness seeping into his own. The original Gibbs had no idea that Washington D.C. wasn't the capital anymore, that the world shared a central capital near what used to be London. The area was destroyed after a volatile war, and the New Federal Regime that came about to develop peace chose that area for commemoration purposes. Now many of the Washington DC building had new purposes, and the Pentagon was a multi-organization headquarters for detained subjects, even international ones if the NFR approved the detainment.

The others realized he'd answered his own question and moved on to their evidence piles. AS.V.2 had run the evidence in her lab, and the findings seemed substantial enough to warrant a change in who held their prisoner. Gibbs turned to McGhee, who still felt like one of Gibb's agents rather than his current superior due to the history floating in his extra data stores.

"Are we going to ask for the transfer?" he questioned. McGhee nodded, taking a seat at his desk, which looked eerily similar to the one he'd sat behind a hundred years ago. "You okay?" Gibbs asked.

"I'm glad you're all back so I can get out of here for good," McGhee sighed, gathering his things before pressing a button on his communications panel. Within minutes, the transfer was arranged and a transport vehicle was ready for McGhee. His belongings were piled in a box, and for the final time, a V.1 walked out of NCIS headquarters and into the afternoon sun.

LJ.V.2 stood in the observation room above the suspect. The petty officer looked like a miniscule farm boy from a Moon colony or something. His face was scrunched with fear, and his eyes darted around as he waited to be interrogated by Gibbs and his team. Now that they were all to be acquainted with each other, they could use other names, but LJ.V.2 was too used to being a group of letters and numbers to respond quickly, which irked Tony and the others.

"Any special methods you want to use, boss?" Tony questioned. LJ.V.2 thought for a moment. Numerous interrogation methods were taught to him as he progressed in age thanks to his V.1's personal training. V.1 already had plenty of interrogation experience, so the new age methods felt strange even to V.2. In the end, he chose to go back to the rules V.1 had placed on himself and others thanks to the training of others: He'd go with his gut.

The group watched as LJ.V.2 stood and exited through the door that would take him into the interrogation room. After a few exchanged glances, Kate and Tony followed carrying filtered e-files with only key documents on the thin, plastic-like discs. They were square and easy to hold in the hand, which helped make the petty officer jump when all three slid e-files onto the desk. All three popped to life immediately, flashing holograms of certain files above the cards. They rotated through, showing various documents the government had used to foil the assassination plot, as well as the one person who tried to carry out the plot.

"You're in some pretty big trouble, petty officer," LJ.V.2 said darkly, leaning forward, his head breaking through the hologram projections and casting an eerie glow upon him. "We've got you at the scene of a political event with a powerful laser gun hidden within your clothing, along with encoded orders from the people you're working with. Those orders asked you to kill the president, and since you had a weapon so close to her, we can only assume you wanted to kill her. What do you have to say about this?"

"I-I can explain everything. Please, just let me explain," he said nervously, twitching in his seat.

"That's what we're here for," Tony smiled, taking a seat and pulling out a recorder to take down the petty officer's words.

"I met the leader at a base mixer on MB.6, Moon Base 6," he said, glancing around the room. All of them knew that already, so he moved on. "He told me I'd make a good addition to a new club he was creating, a boys' club of sorts. It's the new thing among military groups that they make clubs to showcase their hobbies, since the NFR allows hobby-related mixers on certain bases. He knew I liked history and political affairs, so he asked me to join an opinion group, a debate team of sorts. In the beginning, we'd meet just to discuss the affairs of the worlds, but it got out of hand once he realized we all were unhappy with the NFR's latest methods.

"I never thought he'd want me to kill the president. I got tickets for the event because I wanted to hear her latest speech about the US's participation in the acceptance ceremony for Syria. I only wanted to hear what she had to say to see if my beliefs were wrong, since they were always producing pamphlets with high propaganda levels," the petty officer said quickly, glancing around the room again before continuing. "The night before, he wanted to talk to me about getting a recording of the event, which is illegal in itself, but I didn't mind trying. He said he'd have to give me another implant, and he had a doctor friend there to do it.

"When I woke up the next evening, I had been detained for the assassination attempt. I was used, I swear!" he pleaded, seeing the skepticism on everyone's faces. "Please, you have to believe me! I went to the clubhouse at seven. I didn't wake up for twenty-four-plus hours. I don't remember anything, I promise."

"We're going to need the body scans to prove there were anesthetics in your blood," Tony said, manipulating the e-file closer to him. "Oh wait, here it is, and you were clean! Try again, petty officer, and remember that we don't have all day!" Tony exclaimed sternly.

"Please, please, you have to believe me! I didn't try to kill the president! I was framed!" the petty officer screamed.

"Then tell us what you do know!" Gibbs yelled just as loudly, slamming his fist on the table and trying his hardest not to smile at the exhilarating sensation interrogation was giving him. "You tell me every single thing you can about this so-called hobby club and we'll see what we can do. We didn't haul you here from the Pentagon to talk about what you don't know."

"Fine, fine, here's everything," he said, pulling a secret e-file from a card reader implanted in his forehead. All of them were shocked for a moment; this was a new one even for modern-day interrogation. But soon Tony was looking through the e-file, trying to decipher the encoded text without much luck. "Yes, I know it's coded, but I had no choice but to do that. Please, I'll translate it for you if you just believe me!"

"Executions are quicker than they used to be," LJ.V.2 nodded, seeing that the petty officer was trying to avoid such a horrid fate. "But you're safe as long as you keep giving us information."

"Y-You aren't going to let me translate that?" he asked, watching Kate tuck the card into an evidence container.

"Sorry, but we don't really throw all of our trust in a suspect, especially one who was blacked out, supposedly, for over a day," Kate smirked. "Abby ought to have fun with this," she said, heading towards the exit.

"You," the petty officer said, pointing to LJ.V.2, "are you sure you can get me out of this mess? I really don't want to kill the president. I just don't agree with her choices."

"Most people who don't agree with political figures don't join hate groups, but we'll do what we can," LJ.V.2 said in a low voice, following Tony back to their office area. Special agents corralled the petty officer in a nearby cell, where he sat on the floor and wept.

"Wow, he made sure no one could crack this, at least no one with a low intelligence level," AS.V.2 smirked, her eyes still flickering from the encoded e-file to LJ.V.2. "Apparently he didn't have much faith in his fellow comrades or something. I learned this fairly early in my training, and well, I'm glad I kept that data in here," she said, pulling a newly-cut e-file and handing it to LJ.V.2. "Everything is there in English. Do you guys mind telling me why I can't look at the translated data myself? And where's Tim?"

"He finally decided to retire, Abbs," Tony sighed, patting Abby's shoulder sympathetically, "and he left us with this doozy of a classified case to deal with, complete with a V.2 Gibbs to help us along. McGhee's V.2 should be here in the morning, so wish us luck. Until then, thanks for the translation."

Abby nodded, getting back to her regular work. LJ.V.2 and Tony returned to the office, and the e-file's contents were projected onto a screen so they all could look on. Ziva took over the conversation manuscripts and Kate the inventory data of the clubhouse and other belongings. Tony and LJ.V.2 took the profiles hidden in the e-file and ran them through databases of known terrorists. None compared, but all of them had some sort of minor offense on their record stemming from political-related problems.

"I think we've gotten to the bottom of this," Ziva said, zooming in on a particular conversation, the last one the card recorded. Their petty officer stopped being an active participant after being told to count to ten. Then the card picked up the conversation between the doctor and the leader of the organization. The implant really programmed his brain to go after the president once at the event, and the implant caused the petty officer to prepare for the event beforehand, hence the weapon and other strange items in his pockets when he was detained.

"How do we go about this?" Tony asked, turning to LJ.V.2. "It's your call, Boss. Do you think we should try to go after these guys by using this data or try to catch them red-handed to make sure they never come back?"

"Send him back to them," LJ.V.2 replied. "Have that card rigged up so its data will be sent to us, through Abby's lab so she can translate the data. When we have enough, we'll raid them all. The president will have plenty of warning because we'll know everything they're planning, and the leader should be closer to him for getting off on bogus charges. That is, if the director agrees."

"I do," Jenny nodded, descending the stairs leading into the office. "I've made the arrangements already, knowing you'd choose that option. The only thing I don't know is if you've enjoyed this or not. You seem stiff, Jethro, like something feels off about this whole thing."

"I'm not the leader here; they are," LJ.V.2 replied. "McGhee's V.2 will be below me, but the others have been here longer. The hierarchy is off and my programming doesn't know how to cope."

"That can be fixed, Jethro," Jenny smiled.

"I'm due for a tune-up," Kate agreed. Tony and Ziva nodded as well.

"Then it's settled. The others will be repurposed, and starting tomorrow, you'll have been here one day longer than your team. Is that all you require to stay here?" Jenny questioned. LJ.V.2 thought for a moment before nodded. "Well, let me give you a tip before I decide to head out early. You grew up in the outside world where identity was based on your version class and your initials from your previous life. In here, you're the same man you were before this happened. To me, you are Jethro, and to the others, you're their boss or Gibbs or whatever they want to call you. Time never stopped for us because our previous versions decided to leave or because someone gets old or passes away. NCIS and other companies, even small businesses, keep their best workers around for as long as they can thanks to this new technology. We embrace it here, and we maintain old identities through the days of that identity. So, lighten up. You are no longer whatever you were. You are Leroy Jethro Gibbs."

"I get it," Gibbs nodded, eying his team. "You're all okay with leaving to keep my programming working right?" he asked. His team nodded. "Well, I think we should leave once the paperwork is settled. I need to get settled again, and well, it'll be nice to start a good routine."

"I'll walk you out early, Jethro. The rest of you can get this all sorted out," Jenny nodded, leading Gibbs to the elevator and disappearing into the coming night.

~End

Theme 006: Alternatives

To complete the themes yourself, I have the list posted on my profile. The list is for any type of fan fiction (one-shot, drabble, etc.) and any fandom. Challenge yourself in other ways to make it more fun, and enjoy!


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